It wasn’t the laughter itself that cracked her composure. It was the way they seemed to fit together as a family so effortlessly, and the unquestioned assumption that they would all be here again next week, next month, next year. That they belonged to each other in a way that couldn’t be undone by circumstance or choice.
“When we come back next Sunday,” the father was saying, “we should try that hike up to Eagle Point. The view is supposed to be incredible.”
Next Sunday. So simple. So certain.
Hannah’s breath hitched as memories washed over her without warning—a foster home where she’d been told she could stay “as long as you want,” only to be moved three weeks later. A girlfriend who’d talked about “our future, our place” right up until the day she met and moved away with her boyfriend. Places that had felt safe right before they weren’t.
Her hands trembled slightly as she stacked plates, her focus slipping. The family’s conversation continued, oblivious to the effect their ordinary happiness was having on her.
“Hannah?” Eleanor’s voice was gentle, soothing as she approached.
Hannah straightened, composing her features into a polite mask. “Sorry, I was just...”
“Let me help you,” Eleanor said simply, her tone brooking no argument despite its gentleness. She took some plates from Hannah and led the way to the kitchen. “Just set them down there.”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll load them into the dishwasher,” Hannah protested.
“Just leave them there,” Eleanor said with a nod. “We can load them later.”
“I...”
“Come on.” Eleanor took her hand and led her out of the kitchen area to the prep room, now quiet in the post-lunch lull. “Sit.”
Hannah sat, her body obeying before her mind could form a protest. Eleanor moved to the small electric kettle in the corner, filled it, and switched it on. The quiet domesticity of the motion was more steadying than any words could have been.
Neither of them spoke as the water heated, the silence stretching between them. When the kettle clicked off, Eleanor prepared two mugs of tea, adding honey to both without asking if Hannah wanted it.
She set one mug in front of Hannah, the ceramic warm against her palms as she wrapped her hands around it.
“Thank you,” Hannah said, her voice steadier than she felt.
Eleanor sat across from her. She didn’t ask what was wrong. Didn’t offer platitudes or reassurances. She just sipped her tea and waited.
When Hannah finally spoke, it came out sideways, not at all what she’d meant to say. “I should hear about my car tomorrow. The part was mis-routed, but they’re sorting it out.”
Eleanor nodded. “Shipping problems happen. Especially out here in the mountains.”
“I have a job waiting in Slateford,” Hannah continued, staring into her tea. “A good one. With benefits. And an apartment lined up.”
“Sounds like you’ve been planning carefully,” Eleanor observed, her tone neutral.
“I always do.” Hannah’s fingers tightened around her mug. “I like to handle things myself. I like being in control of my life.”
“There’s a lot to be said for self-sufficiency,” Eleanor agreed, surprising Hannah with her lack of argument. “It’s kept you safe, I imagine.”
The simple acknowledgment that Hannah’s caution had a purpose, a value, seemed to ease the burden of her fears. “It has,” she admitted. “But sometimes I wonder...”
She trailed off, unable to finish the thought aloud.Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to belong somewhere. To someone. To trust in that someone.
Eleanor seemed to hear the unspoken words, anyway. “I used to think I needed to do everything myself,” she said, her gaze drifting to the window where mountains rose in the distance. “Not just because I could, but because it felt safer that way. If I didn’t need anything from anyone, they couldn’t disappoint me.”
Hannah looked up, startled by this unexpected revelation. “What changed?” Hannah asked before she could stop herself.
Eleanor smiled slightly. “Meeting Thaddeus. I knew the moment I met him that there was something between us. But I didn’t want to admit it. After all, as a woman, I had fought hard for my independence. I wasn’t about to throw that away for a man I just met simply because my heart told me it was the rightthing to do.” She paused, weighing her next words. “I still value my independence. But I’ve learned I can have both.”
Both. How about that?
“I’m not very good at letting people in,” Hannah admitted, the words barely audible.
